


Pigeon

by brigatoniii



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: I just had to write this, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Oneshot I guess?, Quackity eats schlatts heart whoops!, Songfic, idk how to tag, no beta we die like !smpjschlatt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29505960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brigatoniii/pseuds/brigatoniii
Summary: I was listening to Pigeon by Cavetown and realized how the lyrics kinda matched Quackity and Schlatt's relationship, so i speedran this and wrote it in about an hour or two. so uh yay i just needed to write.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, Implied Karlnapity - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33
Collections: best smp stories





	Pigeon

_ Circling around the kitchen, why has nothing changed? _

Quackity walked around the white house, his shoes tapping on the smooth marble surface, keeping his wings folded in nice and tight. He liked being the vice president, he really did, but sometimes… the day felt like it was the same. He woke up, worked, maybe went downtown if he was lucky, maybe go to Niki’s bakery, if he was lucky. Tried not to look at her fearful expression when he entered her store, worked some more, and slept.

He wished the days felt different, but they didn’t. Hell, the weather barely changed. It was always sunny, barely any clouds, and the sky was always blue. He wished some days would be rainy, some gray clouds maybe. He wished there would be puddles on the ground. God, the duck part of him could really go for some puddles right about now.

_ Feed cucumber sandwich to a pigeon, chipping nail varnish on guitar strings _

He entered his office, glancing at the guitar sitting by his desk. He reached for it, but when he touched it, he pulled away as if it burned. He shook his head slowly and muttered a few curses under his breath. He had work to do, why would he even bother trying to do something fun on the weekday?

_ Got a pillow case made out of money, feelin' pretty fake when I wake up _

When he crept into bed, things felt tense. He stared at Schlatt for a few seconds before turning away from him. This was always how it went. They put on a fake smile for the outside world, but every day they would argue. Sometimes, well, most of the time, Schlatt was drunk and would refuse to back down and admit he was wrong, which ended in Quackity getting a few bruises here and there…

_ But it was okay. They would be okay in the morning _ . That was always his last few thoughts before going to sleep. He refused to think that Schlatt was evil. Schlatt was his husband, and it was nobody's fault that Quackity got hurt, because Schlatt was never in the right headspace, because Schlatt was always drunk.

_ Tissue paper castle paper caddy, scaly little friend's got my backup _

And he was always right. In the mornings, Schlatt would hold Quackity, rubbing circles gently around the bruises he made the night before, and mutter sorrys and sweet nothings. Quackity drank in those words, smiling at the fact that Schlatt did have goodness in his heart. It wasn’t the hangover that was making him speak like this, it was the goodness in his heart. He knew it.

...Right?

_ Didn't give me time to say goodbye in the way that I wanted to _

“Fuck you!” Quackity screamed, his voice going hoarse, tears pricking his eyes as he watched Schlatt - his husband, the man he promised to be with until death do them apart - tearing down the one thing Quackity still loved in this godforsaken mess of a country.

“Fuck you!” Schlatt screamed back. “And you know what? I see that bow there, and you won't shoot. Because you’re Quackity. You’re too much of a pussy to shoot. Because you  _ love me _ .” Those last words rolled off his tongue as if they were bitter.

And just to prove Schlatt wrong, he raised his bow, and shot his husband in the heart. He threw off the silver ring that sat nicely on his finger, and threw it at the half torn down White House. “If death do us part, then we’re over, Schlatt!” He hissed, walking away from the mess.

_ So honey, close your eyes and stay like you're supposed to do _

“S-Schlatt..?” Quackity asked cautiously as the ram hybrid gripped his heart.

Schlatt’s eyes went wide. He looked around frantically, his eyes finally locking on the duck hybrid. He gave a small smile, and dropped to the floor.”

“Schlatt!” Quackity yelled, pushing his way through everyone watching Schlatt, and gripped the man’s body. “Why is everybody just standing there? Somebody help him!” He whimpered, looking back at Schlatt. “He’s hurt..”

Tears managed to find it’s way back into his eyes, and he brought Schlatt closer to him, and let out a muffled sob into the man’s suit.

A hand gripped the duck hybrid’s shoulder. “Schlatt’s dead, Quackity.”

Quackity looked up, sniffling, at Wilbur. His eyes were cold and uncaring. Quackity’s hands started to shake, and he looked back at Schlatt before he let out an ear splitting wail.

“No! Come back!” Quackity sobbed, being pulled away by people in the crowd.

“Stop!” He repeated over and over again, trying to wiggle away from the hard grasps people had on his shoulders and arms. No matter how many arguments they had, Quackity loved Schlatt. He knew he did, and nothing would ever change that. Not the beer bottles, not the rough nights, not the arguments, nothing would change the fact he loved him.

“Don't leave me!” He wailed.

_ Don't you wanna give me time to write another song for you? _

When the funeral happened, Quackity stayed silent, looking down at the ground, or anything that wasn’t Schlatt’s casket, until he went up to give his speech.\

And that’s when he went feral.

He ripped open the casket, which held some of Schlatt’s organs and bones, took the heart out, and took a bite into it.

Despite the gasps and screams of terror, he kept eating, until he was pulled away. He looked around, and down at his hand, and realized what he had done. He felt bile rise up in his throat, and ran from the funeral. He ran until he was away from everyone, and started dry heaving. He couldn’t get the heart out of him. Why had he done that? Had he just wanted Schlatt to always be with him? He wasn’t sure.

_ Fuzzy feeling and I miss you _

Quackity felt numb. After everything that happened on the sixteenth, he wasn’t sure how to feel. He had locked himself up in his house and cried every day. He never controlled when he cried. He would be standing there, and all of a sudden, he would feel warm tears moving down his cheeks.

_ Why can nothing stay the same _

The day he finally left his house, he was greeted by cautious smiles and looks of pity. He lashed out at them, yelling and scaring them, until they left him alone.

He wasn’t sure where his feet were leading him, but he let them lead him away from the mess of everything.

_ Fucking stupid and I'm gonna kill you _

Unfortunately, his feet led him to the place where it all started.

The half torn down White House.

Apparently, after Quackity left, Schlatt just stopped tearing it down. And unfortunately, the explosion Wilbur caused didn’t hit the white house, either.

_ Melt all your art and drink the paint _

He let his feet guide him still, and they stopped at a painting. It was a painting of the cabinet.

They all looked odd other than Schlatt. Tubbo had a pained smile on his face, Fundy wasn’t even smiling, and Quackity himself wasn’t smiling like he normally was.

_ I am not a beast, I'm not a monster _

Quackity’s anger got the best of him, in that moment. He tore the painting down off the wall, and dug his fingernails into the canvas, ripping the paint and the memories away. Once his anger ebbed away, he stepped back at his new creation.

There were rips in every piece of the painting. Schlatt had been ripped away, Tubbo had a hole in his stomach, Fundy had rips along his eyes, and Quackity had his face ripped away.

Quackity’s lips quivered, and his eyes started to water again. His knees buckled, and he fell down onto the painting, letting out a small sob.

_ I don't care what you say _

He felt a hand on his shoulder again. He looked up, seeing a flash of Wilbur, and all of a sudden, he was back in the camarvan, holding Schlatt’s dead body while Wilbur looked at him, uncaring and unfocused.

And then he was back at the White House, cradling the painting as if that were Schlatt’s dead body.

“Woah! It’s okay!” The voice soothed, crouching down to meet his gaze. Oh. It was Karl.

_ You can't have the bad guys without a hero _

Karl gave a soft smile, and said “Quackity, Schlatt’s dead. You’re okay.” He pulled the duck hybrid into a hug, murmuring soft sorrys.

And all of a sudden, Quackity was back in the soft bed that used to live in the White House while Schlatt murmured sorrys and sweet nothings to him again.

He realized that Schlatt was the reason he got the bruises. It was his fault. He wasn’t a different person while drunk, he just revealed more of himself while drunk.

Schlatt was a bad person.

_ And I'm the only one who's got a cape _

Karl pulled away from the hug, slowly standing up. “Let’s get out of here, yeah? I have Sapnap waiting for me back at home. I’m not sure where you live now, but it must get pretty lonely, yeah? You can live with us for the time being.”

_ Didn't give me time to say goodbye in the way that I wanted to _

Quackity looked down at the painting of the cabinet one last time before sliding the painting off of him and standing up to meet Karl’s gaze again. “Yeah. That sounds lovely.”

_ So honey, close your eyes and stay like you're supposed to do _

Karl nodded and set off, waving his hand back at Quackity. “C’mon! I’ll lead you there. Maybe you can build your house next to mine, if you don’t have one already!”

Quackity laughed. “Oh, I have a house but I’ve been thinking about moving.” He followed after Karl.

_ Don't know how I'm gonna live without, but I'll stay strong for you _

Quackity was okay. He wasn’t a broken shell of a man who was nothing without his husband, no. Quackity was strong and brave. He was okay.


End file.
